


love is a magic like no other

by mytypeofthing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band), Virtual Hogwarts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Hogwarts AU, M/M, Magic, harry/louis - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytypeofthing/pseuds/mytypeofthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two first year boys meet on the Hogwarts Express and full of of nerves and excitement, they strike up an easy friendship.<br/>Six years later and Louis Tomlinson believes any member of Slytherin house to be nothing but a stain on the magical world, and that includes Harry Styles. But Louis has Harry all wrong, and as Harry finds it harder to stay away from the blue-eyed boy their final year at Hogwarts turns into something neither of them could've ever expected . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any spelling/grammatical errors I do apologise. This is my first proper attempt at fan fiction and I'm still quite a precocious proof reader. But please enjoy nonetheless! Comment if you like, I'd be happy to hear any suggestions or anything :)

“Hurry up love! Come on Lottie, quickly Lou can’t miss his train!”  
A short, pretty woman rushed through Kings Cross Station with a little girl in tow. A few feet ahead was a boy. At a glance there was nothing out of the ordinary about this boy, nothing that would warrant a second look, perhaps aside from the slightly startling aqua of his eyes or the large tawny owl which was looking rather alarmed sitting atop his trolley. Bustling past the oblivious crowds of people going about their mundane daily lives Louis Tomlinson dropped small, rather meaningless apologies at their feet and carried on pushing towards his platform. He didn’t envy them one bit.  
“Lou its right there, Louis!”  
He stopped abruptly at his mother’s words. He turned to see she’d almost caught up to him, dragging Lottie by the wrist, who despite having insisted on coming to see him off had been rather a nuisance on the trip from Doncaster to London. Louis didn’t mind though, his sisters were often a pain in his arse and although he didn’t know it yet he would come to miss that in his first few weeks away from home.  
“So here we are,” his mum looked up at the very solid looking brickwork in front of them, and then down at her children, she looked unsure. “Um, right. So we are just supposed to run through the wall? Tha...That’s right isn’t it?” The woman asked the rather irrational question without much conviction.  
Jay always tried her best to act as though she was unfazed by the life she had been introduced to when she met her first husband. As a muggle herself who had lived the first twenty years of her life under the impression that spell casting was something which stayed firmly within the pages of a fantasy novel, she has tried to seamlessly fit into the life that her children were destined for, a life of magic. But there were times when the normalities of the magical world completely baffled her. Like the time her husband had bought home a pale blue Ford Anglia claiming it could fly. They drove it out onto the Yorkshire dales and to her complete and utter terror she discovered he hadn’t been lying.  
Things had gotten a lot more complicated after he left. It’s one thing to raise five children as a single mother, it’s another to singularly raise five children who have tendencies to set her knitting on fire by accident, or to send household objects flying round the room when their tempers get the better of them.  
She had enough knowledge from the stories of her ex-husband’s childhood to know that wizarding children did not attend normal schools, and so when Louis finished primary school Jay waited patiently for the letter he had told her he had received at age eleven. And sure enough, in mid-July came a letter emblazoned with an intricate crest bearing the letter ‘H’ in an elegant font.  
Louis looked up at his mother, who appeared lost in thought. “Mum. Did you hear me?”  
“Sorry Lou.”  
“I said we better go, it’s ten minutes to eleven. I can’t miss it! You saw what the letter said, the train doesn’t wait for anyone.”  
Jay snapped herself back to reality and acted like the mother she had to be.  
“Yes of course you’re right. Let’s get a move on. Shall I go first?”  
Despite her offer, Louis could sense his mother’s anxiety, and while she didn’t like to admit it to them, he knew the reality of magic often jarred her. “No mum its fine I’ll go,” and with a huge grin he rushed off towards the magical vessel without a second thought, propelling himself forward with his loaded trolley.  
Jay smiled to herself, typical Louis she thought, before following suit.  
Louis jaw dropped open as he landed on platform nine and three quarters, his eyes fixed upon the bright scarlet steam train and the hundreds of people milling around before him. There were men and women chatting, clad in robes and hats of every colour imaginable and young people holding cages filled with owls, cats and even toads. The sight of so many magical people in one place was not something Louis was used to and it made his stomach bubble like a cauldron with excitement.  
Jay and Lottie emerged behind Louis with matching incredulous looks.  
“Wow!” Lottie gasped. “Look at that train mummy, it’s so shiny red! I love red, it’s my third favourite colour.”  
“I know it is darling, after purple and blue.” Jay replied with a smile.  
“Mummy can I go with Louis on the red train? Pleaaaase!” Jay’s smile faltered slightly as she had to tell her daughter that she was too young but she would follow Louis in footsteps in a few years’ time.  
Louis was barely listening to his family as he scanned the platform eagerly, his eyes soaking up all the colours and his ears tuning to their highest frequency to take in all the noises surrounding him; the unified hooting of owls, the train’s hissing engine, and the sobs of dramatic mothers who couldn’t bear to leave their little darlings.  
Having pacified Lottie, Jay turned to tell her eldest and only son goodbye. “You be good now. I don’t want any letters saying you’ve been getting into mischief, alright?”  
“Yes mum, no mischief. But what about Mr Chief? How do you feel about him?”  
Jay laughed at his ridiculous joke, she was really going to miss her son’s incessant nonsense.  
“I’m serious Louis. Now just remember you can come home if you don’t like it, and you have Johnny so you can write to us.” She indicated to the Tawny owl perched peacefully within the carrier, “I’d like to hear from you at least once a week okay? Just to make sure everything’s alright.”  
“Okay mum, I promise.” Louis hugged his mum and then his little sister.  
“I’ll miss you Louis,” Lottie said with a smile, showing she was no longer sulking about not being able to come along.  
“You too Lotts, and watch the temper, don’t send any more picture frames flying into the fish tank, Bill and Ben were terrified last time.” Lottie’s cheeks reddened and he ruffled his oldest little sister’s hair, gave his mum a final parting kiss on the cheek before boarding the train with his trunk in one hand and Johnny’s cage in the other.  
Once on the train Louis set about trying to find a compartment. He trudged along the hallway passing many already filled with older students who were conversing loudly clearly happy to be reunited, until he eventually found an empty one. He somehow dragged open the door without any free hands and slumped in. He propped Johnny’s cage against the door and hopped up onto the seat to fight his trunk into the luggage compartment. It was hardly a fair fight as Louis was a small eleven year old boy struggling at an awkward angle against a trunk which weighted almost as much as he did. Just as he thought he was getting somewhere he heard the whistle blow and the train suddenly lurched forward, sending Louis toppling to the floor swiftly followed by the trunk which fell with a deafening crash just centimetres from his head. Louis closed his eyes to try and block out the pain that was spreading quickly over the back of his skull from the impact.  
Louis was so dazed that he was unaware of the boy who had stopped in shock as he walked past the accident.  
“Merlin’s beard! Are you okay?” the stranger asked.  
Louis didn’t hear a thing as his ears rang with pain.  
“Jesus Christ” Louis muttered quietly, rubbing his head to feel a lump already blossoming.  
“Who?”  
Louis caught that, and peeked open an eye to see who said it. He couldn’t see past his blurred vision however and lay on the floor for a few moments trying to focus his gaze on the direction of the word. He scrubbed at his eyes and blinked ferociously until a wild mop of chocolate brown curls came into focus.  
“Excuse me?” Louis asked.  
“Jee-sus Cry-st” the boy stood before him sounding out the letters like they were foreign to him. “What does that mean?”  
Louis, although still suffering from the aftershock of his fall, propped himself up onto his elbows and looked at the inquisitive boy in front of him. He was stood on the threshold of the compartment Louis had clumsily claimed and was still clutching his trunk. He definitely had curls, and lots of them as well as bright green eyes which were staring down at Louis with a mixture of question and concern.  
It took Louis a moment to understand the boy’s confusion.  
“Are you asking me who Jesus is?” Louis looked at the boy incredulously, before he realised that of course wizarding children were often unaware of muggle customs like religion.  
“Yes” the boy stated unabashedly, still standing there.  
“Uh..” Louis racked his brain for a simple explanation that didn’t involve running through the entire nativity story with this boy, “I guess he’s like Merlin but for muggles.”  
The boy looked fascinated, and Louis couldn’t help noticing how his eyes lit up as the corners of his mouth lifted. “Wow.” The word slipped from his mouth and he looked at Louis with intrigue. “Are your parent’s muggles?” he asked without a trace of prejudice in his voice.  
Louis didn’t really know how to explain his complicated family with this stranger, nor was he sure he wanted to, and aware that the train was moving and he was still lying on the floor Louis ignored the question in favour of trying to stand up. The boy dropped his things onto the floor and reached out to help him immediately. He took Louis hands in his and helped him to steady himself in the wobbling carriage. He then reached down to pick up Louis trunk and together they stood on the seat and pushed it securely into the luggage rack. Louis stashed Johnny safely up there alongside it and then turned back to the boy who had helped him. “Thanks.” He smiled at his new curly acquaintance.  
He nodded to where the boys’ bags still were in the hallway, and which if unmoved would do a wonderful job at obstructing anyone who tried to get past. “D’you want to grab those?”  
The boy went to pick up his trunk and a cage that Louis hadn’t previously noticed. It contained a beautiful silver cat with green eyes to match its owners.  
Together they stored the luggage but the boy kept his cat and placed it on the seat before settling in next to it. Louis sat down on the opposite side, the toes of his shoes only just brushing the floor.  
The two boys looked at one another and settled into a short silence, which Louis was quick to break. He hated silence.  
“I like your cat” Louis stated simply.  
The boy gave Louis his one-hundred watt smile and moved the cage onto his lap. “Thank you. Her name is Silver,” he poked his index finger through the bars on the carrier and Silver pushed her face against it with a satisfied purr. He looked up towards Johnny who was watching her warily from the luggage rack. “I like your owl.”  
“Thanks, his name’s Johnny. My mum got him so I can send her letters and stuff you know? I’m the first of all my siblings to go to Hogwarts, I think she’s a little bit worried.” Louis wasn’t sure why he was being so forthcoming with information, but there was something about this boy and his silver cat which made him feel at ease.  
“That’s nice,” he sounded like he really thought so, “my sister is in third year, but my mum is still insisting I write every week. I don’t mind at all thought, it’s a mother’s prerogative to worry,” he finished with a reasonable smile.  
Louis snorted, hearing the words his mother had said to him a million times in his life being echoed by this boy was strangely hilarious. But the boy did not seem offended that Louis had laughed at him, on the contrary, he looked pleased with himself to have amused Louis.  
The train made a sudden jump and Louis head wacked back against the headboard. He managed not to cry out in pain, but his face contorted enough to give him away.  
“Are you sure you’re okay? Is your head okay?” The boy quickly asked, his face coloured with concern.  
“Yeah I’m fine, it was just a little knock,” Louis hated to appear weak, “I’ve had far worse believe me.”  
The boy’s fascinated look returned, “Really? Do you have any scars? I hear muggle children have those.”  
Louis was not technically a muggle-born child, he was a half-blood. But his dad had left when he was still a toddler and he’d never been in touch since and so, for all it mattered, Louis had experienced the upbringing of a muggle-born child. Therefore rather than bothering to correct the boy he just said “Sure”.  
“Wicked” the boy replied with the enthusiasm of any eleven year old boy discussing injuries.  
Louis lifted the leg of his trouser to reveal a thin pale scar running along his knee, “Here’s one I got when I was seven. I fell off the top of our garden shed,” he said proudly.  
Harry looked fascinatedly at the scar on Louis leg. “Cool, what does it feel like?”  
Louis snorted, “Nothing now. Actually you can’t really feel anything where it is. But at the time it hurt a bit.” Or maybe a lot. “So you don’t have any scars?”  
The boy looked utterly perplexed at the idea of scars and shook his head. “Nope. Anytime I hurt myself my mum would just use spells from her first aid spell book and fix me up, like it never even happened.” Louis was amazed.  
The boy continued “When I was about eight or nine I had a pretty bad broom accident. I’ve never been a great flier, I don’t have the balance for it. Anyway, I flew straight into a tree top and cut myself all over.” Louis was listening with allure at the boy’s childhood tale, ignoring the important part and just imagining how cool it would be to have spent his younger days flying around the garden on a broomstick. “It was pretty bad, tonnes of blood. But my mum fixed me up using her spell book good as new. No scars,” he gestured to himself to indicate that he was scar free.  
“That’s mad that is,” Louis replied.  
Conversation passed easily between them as they shuttled across the country on the scarlet steam train, the window becoming an idyllic country setting painted various shades of green. At around two o’clock a lady came round with a trolley of sweets and the two boys purchased enough to feed an entire classroom. Louis listened interestedly as the other boy explained to him about the Chocolate Frog cards and they nervously made their way through a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, taking it in turns to pick one out the box and anxiously nibble on the end of it. Louis was enjoying himself far too much to even register any nerves which he may have felt about leaving his family behind and starting his new school.  
When it started to get dark outside their window a prefect came round to inform them they would shortly be arriving at Hogsmeade Station and they should change into their school robes. Both boys did so unabashedly and before they knew it they were halting to a stop. Together they retrieved their trunks from the luggage compartment and Louis poked his head out of their carriage to see everyone else vacating the train. They followed suit, staying close together in the sudden flock of students pooling onto the platform.  
They shuffled to the side to wait until they knew where to go. “I can’t believe we’re here,” the boy said to Louis through a huge grin. The nearly eight hour train journey with this boy had taught Louis that he grinned a lot, and he had a very nice smile, so this didn’t bother Louis at all.  
It suddenly struck Louis that while he knew many names which were significant to his new friend, like the name of his cat (Silver), the name of his third year sister (Gemma), and even the name of the wizarding village he called home (Holmes Chapel), he did not actually know the name of the boy himself.  
“Hey by the way-“ Louis began to ask, but was suddenly interrupted by a booming voice.  
“FIRST YEARS! FIRST YEARS THIS WAY PLEASE! LEAVE YOUR THINGS AND FOLLOW ME.”  
He looked up to see a towering figure, huge in both height and breadth, standing by the edge of the platform. The two boys exchanged a look before shrugging their shoulders, dropping their possessions, and joining the army of first years who were following the huge man.  
They walked round the back of the station and continued down a path until they reached a lake, where a large collection of paddle boats were piled up by the shore.  
“RIGHT,” the man didn’t appear to be yelling on purpose, he just had a natural boom to his voice, which seemed to suit his build and big bushy beard. “I’m Hagrid! Now we’ve got introductions out of the way,” Louis sneaked a glance at his new friend and thought quite the opposite, “let’s get on up to the castle shall we! It’s four to a boat,” he gestured over to the little wooden basins and Louis felt his curly haired companion grab onto his forearm. Louis turned to him and saw that his eyes were brimming with panic.  
“You alright?” he whispered.  
The boy gulped and said, so quietly Louis barely caught it over the sound of first years scrambling to get into boats, “I can’t swim.”  
Louis was quite surprised by that, but didn’t say so out loud. Instead he just looked him in the eyes and whispered, “Don’t worry, I can and I’ll save you if you fall out,” with a reassuring smile.  
This seems to placate the boy somewhat, although his legs are slightly wobbly as he steps into the boat ahead of Louis, who places a hand on his back for moral and literal support. They’re joined in their boat by two other first years, one a girl with dark curly hair who offers them a smile, and the other a boy with floppy blonde hair who’s almost bouncing with excitement as he sits down on the plank of wood opposite them. He reminds Louis of a happy dog waiting to go for a walk.  
Once they’re all safely in their boats and settled into the most shallow part of the water Hagrid the giant stands up in his, which is questionably not a brilliant idea as it rocks rather violently from side to side. “RIGHT. EVERYBODY READY? OFF WE GO.”  
The boats begin to move themselves off without any paddling necessary. Louis is utterly amazed, looking from side to side in search of some kind of propeller, and he isn’t the only one. Plenty of other students are ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ at the independently sailing boats. Louis turns to see that the curly haired boy is not one of them. Instead he looks paralysed with fear as he fixates on the wooden floor of the boat and clutches his hands together in his lap, the whites of his knuckles protruding through his soft skin. Without thinking Louis puts his hand over the boys’, untangling his fingers and squeezing them with his own. He startles slightly at the contact but doesn’t make any attempt to move his hand away from Louis.  
“Is he alright?” the blonde dog-like boy asks Louis in a thick Irish accent.  
Louis protectively says “Yeah, it’s just uh, motion sickness.”  
The boy lifts his gaze from the floor and looks at Louis with grateful eyes.  
Louis’ silent but gives him a small wink and gently squeezes his hand again in a comforting way.  
Before they know it Hagrid tells them they’re approaching Hogwarts and everything else is forgotten. Its’ magnificence blooms into view for the young wizards and witches; huge pointed turrets, great sloping walls and hundreds of windows, all lit up like it was December the twenty-fifth. The castle is by far the most beautiful thing Louis has ever seen. Even the boy next to him seems to be perking up as he stares at the place they will come to think of as home, the look of dread on his face being replaced with one of wonder.  
They all exit the boats at the shore on the grounds of the school, being careful so as not to go crashing into the dark waters beneath. Then they’re walking in single file up to the school, Hagrid at the front and a handful of others clutching oil lamps to light the way.  
It wasn’t an unpleasant evening but everyone seemed glad to reach the doors and Hagrid merely tapped them with a bright pink umbrella, which should’ve seemed out of place on his person but somehow didn’t. The Entrance Hall inside was as jaw dropping as the outside, if not even more so. Flamed torches lit the stone walls all around, and the size of the place was astounding to Louis, who had grown up in a pokey four bedroom semi-detached.  
“It’s like a dream,” the curly boy said to nobody in particular as he stared around, greedily taking in the elegant surroundings.  
“I don’t think I could even dream this,” Louis replied.  
Both boys walked together in the gaggle of first years as Hagrid lead them to a set of intricately carved double doors and told them to wait there for a professor whose name Louis didn’t think he would be able to pronounce.  
Mild chatter began to seep through the group and Louis was about to ask his friend if he thought their pets would be in their rooms when they got there when he spoke first, “Hey look,” Louis turned to the direction he was pointing to, “a cat.”  
There was indeed a rather sleek looking cat perched atop the bannister of the nearest marble staircase. The still unnamed boy was about to move toward it, and would probably have had it purring into his touch within seconds, had it not suddenly leapt from where it sat and miraculously transformed into a woman. Several people screamed, including the mop haired Irish boy, which resulted in a bubble of laughter from the rest.  
Louis thought it was without a doubt the coolest thing he’d ever witnessed, and was tempted to clap, but thought better of it.  
“Good evening first years, my name is Professor McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, I’m sure you’re all extremely tired and hungry from the long trip and I assure you the feast is almost close enough to taste. But, before you can eat you must all be sorted into your houses. For those of you who don’t know, there are four houses here at Hogwarts. Gryffindor, my own, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff,” she paused ever so slightly before continuing “and Slytherin.”  
Whispers erupted at the named houses, but all of this new information meant absolutely nothing to Louis.  
“Silence please. Now, in a few moments you will follow me into the Great Hall. Once we reach the front you will wait your turn until I call your name, and then you will come up, I will place the sorting hat on your head and you will be sorted in your houses. Is that understood?”  
There was a murmuring of agreement and Professor McGonagall continued, “Very well, I shan’t be a moment.” She briskly walked off.  
Louis turned to his friend who he knew had vastly greater knowledge of the wizarding world than he did and asked, “What are these houses then?”  
Only happy to oblige he said “Well they’re kind of like your family while you’re here, and they’re supposed to reflect your personality. My sister, Gemma, she’s in Ravenclaw, and my parents were both Ravenclaw’s too. It means they’re all clever.”  
Louis nodded, understanding, “So will you be in Ravenclaw?”  
He looked uncomfortable at the question, “I don’t know, I’m not as smart as my sister,” he confessed. “I don’t really mind though.”  
Louis got the sense that maybe he did mind a little bit but he didn’t push it. “So what do the others mean?”  
“Well Gryffindor is for the brave and courageous. Although Gemma always says it’s where they put the show offs. Hufflepuff is for the loyal and hard-working, but again, Gemma says they’re all just a bit slow.”  
Louis chuckled at that, but was struck with slight worry that maybe he would be put there.  
“And Slytherin-“  
The boy is cut off as Professor McGonagall abruptly returns and ushers them all to follow her into the Great Hall. “This way everyone, we’re ready for you.”  
They all walk in two lines up toward the front, passing through two tables crammed with students who ogle them as though they’re on display in a zoo. Louis doesn’t mind though, in fact he quite likes the attention. It’s not until they reach the front and he see’s Professor McGonagall standing atop a raised platform holding a tattered old hat that nerves began to settle in.  
“Just so we’re clear, when I call your name you’ll come forth, I’ll place the sorting hat on your head, and you’ll be sorted into your house.  
Ruby Adams,” the girl from Louis boat stumbles forward from the group and totters over to the stool nervously. She sits down onto the stool with encouragement from the professor, who carefully places the ratty looking wizards’ hat atop her curly hair.  
“Ahaa!” shouted the hat, which almost made Louis lose his footing. Just above the brim of the hat a slit had appeared and what he could only refer to as eyes had formed in the folds near the top. It spoke in a drawl as it decided where to place Ruby Adams.  
After settling on Gryffindor, to which the entire table on the far left erupted in cheers, the next student came forward to be sorted. Name after name was called out and it must’ve triggered something in the other boy’s mind. He turned to Louis and quietly whispered, “Hey I nearly forgot to ask what your name is?”  
Louis’ attention is pulled from the talking hat, which had not yet faltered, and he looks his friend in the eye when he says, “Oh yeah me too. I’m Louis, Louis Tomlinson. What’s you-“  
He was interrupted as Professor McGonagall reached the next name on her list  
“Harry Styles”  
Cool name, thought Louis, as he looked around to see who came forward, only to discover that his new curly haired friend was shuffling forwards. He hadn’t expected this boy to be a Harry for some reason. The newly named Harry Styles looked over his shoulder to give Louis a half shrug and a little smile in response to the question that he hadn’t gotten to finish.  
Louis watched as Harry almost tripped walking up to the platform. Louis wince became a sigh of relief as he caught himself just in time. He reached the stool and tentatively sat down, while McGonagall placed the hat on his really quite obscenely curly head. “Ahaaa!” The hat shrieked, causing Harry to nearly topple to the ground once more. The boy looked relatively calm despite his jolty movements and Louis was learning that although it often translated as nerves, Harry was actually just an extraordinarily clumsy person.  
The hat took its’ time on Harry, muttering things too quiet for the rest to hear, and occasionally shouting aloud odd phrases such as “Vigilance is a virtue!” It seemed to take forever, and although he didn’t have a full understanding of the houses, he hoped Harry got a good one.  
Finally, after what felt like hours of deliberation from a piece of tatty old material and some whispered conversation between Harry and said material, it opened its’ ‘mouth’ and screamed in a voice that echoed across the Hall, “SLYTHERIN!”  
The table on the far right erupted in whoops and cheers, and Harry hopped down from the stool and walked over to be congratulated by them. He looked over his shoulder once more as he went, and caught Louis eye. If they’d both known what was to come, they might have held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than they did.  
But Louis just clapped along with everyone else and smiled, peacefully oblivious that he’d just lost his friend.  
Once everyone calmed down Louis own name was called and he walked up to let the hat decide his fate. He was kind of hoping he’d get Slytherin too, not wanting to be separated from the first friend he’d made at his new school. He waited patiently for the hat to be placed on his head, but was sorely disappointed when it barely sat for a few seconds before exploding with “GRYFFINDOR!”  
Louis stood up and followed in the footsteps of Ruby Adams and many others as he made his way towards the Gryffindor table. Everyone along the table was on their feet clapping and cheering enthusiastically and he got multiple pats on the back as he sat down next to a boy with short brown hair and a kind smile.  
“Hi, I’m Liam,” the boy said with an extended hand.  
Louis shook it and returned a friendly “Louis”.  
The rest of the sorting passed quickly as some Hufflepuff’s, a couple more Gryffindor’s, and a Slytherin were allocated to their respective tables. The professor then scrolled up her parchment and took the stool and the hat to stash away until next year.  
The headmaster, a silver bearded man by the name of Albus Dumbledore stood up to make a speech and then with a wave of his hand mountains of food appeared in front of Louis. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until he was tearing his way into a chicken leg and piling roast potatoes onto his plate like an eleven year old boy possessed. He was getting along well with his fellow Gryffindor’s who were all very talkative and friendly, but he couldn’t help himself from sneaking frequent glances through the heads of many students in search of a particular curly one.  
Little did he know, over on the Slytherin table, Harry was doing the same.


	2. Chapter 2

SIX YEARS LATER

 

“Mum are you for real? I’m sixteen! You can’t expect me to write every week, I have classes and friends! You don’t need to worry about me, it’s not first year anymore!”  
“Listen here Louis Tomlinson, I am your mother and I will always worry about you no matter how old you are. Okay? It’s a mother’s prerogative to worry.”  
As his mother echoed the words she’d spoken a million and one times before, de ja vu struck Louis as he racked his brain for another memory of those words being spoken by someone who wasn’t his mother. He couldn’t quite place it.  
“Louis, are you even listening to me?”  
Bumped back to his present conversation, and another reminder that they were in the present and not the past, Louis looked down at his mum, something he definitely wasn’t capable of the first time they stood here. He wasn’t tall, but luckily for him neither was Jay.   
“Alright mum look I’m sorry okay? I will write you every week, starting the first Friday back, expect Johnny promptly on Saturday morning. And don’t be afraid to send him back with a mars bar,” Louis said cheekily. One of the few things he had to admit was a pain about Hogwarts was its lack of mars bars.   
Jay sighed but there was a smile hidden in it somewhere and Louis knew he was off the hook.   
He gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, before crouching low to his twin sisters who were clutching each other on the busy platform.  
“Bye guys, be good for mum won’t you?”  
They both snorted at him for having the audacity to say such a thing, at nine years old they were aware that Louis often toed the line with their mother, but they still accepted his hugs and told him “We’ll miss you Louis” in unison.  
Lottie had already rushed off to meet her friends in a compartment somewhere and so picking up his trunk and Johnny’s cage, with a parting wave to his family, Louis did the same.  
He was scanning the platform for Liam when he passed a group of third year girls who were whispering animatedly behind their hands. He didn’t give a second thought to what it was about until his eyes caught sight of something, or rather someone, in the shallow focus of his vision. Harry Styles, of course. He rolled his eyes all the way back to Doncaster.   
He couldn’t recollect a single pleasant conversation he’d had with the Slytherin boy since that first day on the train, which all these years later had come to be so vague a memory to him that he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t made it all up in his head. The boy leaning lazily against a pillar across the platform was a cocky son-of-a-bitch whose mouth seemed to be stuck in a permanent sneer when he was faced with anything but a mirror, and he was not someone with whom Louis wanted any affiliation.  
In the process of turning his back to the boy, which was not the usual response Harry Styles elicited from people, male and female alike, he was pounded on the shoulder in what he had come to know as Liam’s version of a hello.   
“Mate! Finally! I’ve been wandering around for like ten minutes trying to find you. There are just so many people here. At one point I got caught in a group of fifth year girls fawning over Zayn Malik, it wasn’t an experience I’d care to repeat.”  
Louis laughed at his friend’s mock shudder and pulled him into a manly bear hug which ended in the two boys acting as though it were a rugby scrum. He might’ve mentioned that to Liam, if there was any chance Liam would know what rugby was, which there was not.  
“I missed you mate. How was your summer?”  
“Ah it was cool man, very cool,” Liam had a tendency to mimic American ways of speaking, which ranged from cute at best to cringe worthy at worst. But as his best friend, Louis didn’t mind at all. His only exception was when his friend extracted the word ‘boomtown’ from his vocabulary, it was then that Louis would be forced to intervene.   
They’d exchanged owls fairly regularly over the last six weeks so Louis knew Liam had spent three of them on holiday with his muggle girlfriend Sophia. She didn’t know about the magical part of the world and Liam had to be careful to keep it that way. Louis couldn’t imagine how hard that would be, trying to keep something so huge about yourself from someone you were supposed to share all your secrets with. He didn’t really understand the attraction of a relationship at all to be honest. He had plenty of friends, guys and girls, but nobody ever really caught his eye in that sort of way. Louis had wondered on occasion if there was something wrong with him, but it wasn’t something he spent a great deal of time thinking about.   
He’d had far more pressing issues over the years like his OWLs, which to his surprise he had done rather well in. The only subject he had abysmally trolled was History of Magic and he’d managed to talk his mum round on that – “Mum he’s a ghost! A bloody ghost! How am I supposed to pay attention to someone who I can only just about see, it’s ridiculous!” – And in the end she hadn’t been too angry about it. Besides, his ‘O’ in Transfiguration had in itself been enough cause to celebrate and they’d gone out to a muggle restaurant with his family. Jay had let him invite his childhood friend Stan, who was under the impression that the celebration was for an entirely different reason, but it was still nice.   
Louis and Liam chatted aimlessly about their summers until they climbed aboard the train in search of an empty compartment. The corridor was packed with so many students reuniting and bustling around trying to find their friends that it was hard to see two steps in front of you, which is why it was unsurprising when Louis tripped over someone else’s feet. He would’ve fallen back and wacked his head against the floor if a hand hadn’t slid round his waist to catch him just in time. It was to prevent no further injury that in the same motion a pair of lips pressed in close to the side of Louis face and exhaled warm breath into his ear and over the bare skin on his neck, warm breath which sounded painfully like “Jesus Christ”.   
It all happened so breathtakingly quickly that Louis barely had time to open his eyes before he was released. He then looked around frantically to figure out what the hell had just happened, but whoever had helped him had already disappeared into the sea of people. Liam turned round just then to see Louis looking perplexed and offered him a raised eye brow in question, to which Louis just shook his head and gestured for him to continue forward to a compartment.   
Louis spent the first few hours of the journey thinking about the warm breath against his ear until he resigned himself to the fact that he must’ve imagined the whole thing entirely. Why would someone whisper in his ear? And in such a manner as that? He was pretty certain that if ‘someone’ existed at all then they were male, the possibly figment voice having been far too low to belong to any girl, which made the entire circumstance seem even more implausible to him. Louis was tired, he’d had a long journey from Doncaster to London and he’d been up late babysitting the girls at home for the last few nights. He was sure he was losing his mind.   
Little did he know, some way down the train, slouched in a compartment with his fellow Slytherin’s, a curly haired boy was feeling equally as confused if not more.  
The sorting was much like any other sorting, the hat sang, the houses cheered, and Louis sat there with an empty stomach waiting for it to end. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy the tradition, but he was always starving by the time it got to the U’s, and so it was with rare enthusiasm from him that the final first year was sorted, a boy named Michael Zeal, into Slytherin. Louis remembers well how he sat on that stool six years prior, but clutches only loosely and reluctantly to the memory of hoping to be sorted into Slytherin himself. Just thinking about that now makes his empty stomach churn. How could he have wanted ever actually wanted that?  
It’s funny really, given that he came to Hogwarts without an ounce of prejudice about any of the four houses. Six years down the line and he’s been institutionalised.  
While the house rivalry is believed to be a healthy Hogwarts tradition transcending into the inter-house Quidditch tournament and the house point’s competition, for some houses there’s more to it than that. Not for all mind. Louis knows a few Ravenclaw’s personally and while he’d say they can appear rather haughty they are always happy to give him help when Snape sets a particularly nasty essay. Hufflepuff’s are of course harmless and Louis would even go as far as to say he was friends with the house occupant Niall Horan, but then again who isn’t? No longer sporting the shaggy hair he once did, the Irish boy still has the temperament of an excitable puppy.   
No, the real rivalry lies between Slytherin and Gryffindor houses, where lie deeper conflicts than just those between the house sports teams. Although as the Seeker for his house team Louis can’t deny that it is very much present there also. Theirs is a long running feud whose origin is unknown and, unless you’re on speaking terms with Godric or Salazar themselves then you won’t know for sure what it was that drew the two apart in the first place. Thousands of years later however it hardly seems to matter to anyone.  
As Dumbledore wishes them all a pleasant night’s sleep (followed by his signature line of twoddle plucked from Merlin knows where), the mass of students begin to make their way out of the Great Hall. While Louis is eager to reach one of his favourite places on earth; the magnificent four poster bed up in Gryffindor tower, he has agreed to wait for Liam who as a Prefect has the joy of herding up the first years before leading them to their cots. He leans against the marble staircase to wait, thankful that the ground floor ones don’t take it upon themselves to change position. Full of food and the desire to sleep, Louis is fighting the urge to just lie down on the cold marble when he hears a slick voice approaching.   
“I’m telling you H there’s not a single one who I’d even consider screwing. You’d have to pay me at least fifty galleons.”  
“That’s considering it you dick.”  
“Oh just shut up you curly fuck, alright? Sinstra’s not that old.” The dark haired boy wacked Harry on the shoulder with his tattooed hand and a playful scuffle broke out, but expressions of amusement quickly became ones of contempt as they rounded the corner and saw Louis.   
Zayn snorted “Oh look H, we better give Filch a shout and tell him there’s vermin festering by the stairs.”  
Despite his drowsiness Louis didn’t skip a beat, “Sounds about right, running to Filch to sort out your problems. Typical fucking Slytherin”.  
Zayn’s eyes became slits and Harry grabbed his forearm to hold back any violent outburst his friend was prone to. “What did you say Tommo?”  
“You heard me. Now piss off you snaky twat.”   
Harry dropped his grip on Zayn and stepped in, “Or what?”  
Louis pretended he’d only just noticed Harry’s presence, “Oh Styles, nice of you to show up. I’m afraid your timing isn’t great. You see Malik here was just about to slither back down to the lair you lot call a common room and practice perfecting his eyeliner. I expect you’d care to join him.”  
The boy’s answering expression was a nightmare. Louis didn’t suspect Harry was oblivious to how frightening he could look when wanted to, as the boy appeared to be taking full advantage of his death stare.   
“I’m sorry you can’t accept that we don’t prefer to sit in a tower comparing notes on how marvellous we think we are,” Harry answered coolly, his green eyes staying firmly in place with Louis blue ones.  
It was like a stand-off between the earth and the sea, a battle of the elements, with neither boy willing to look away first, until Liam came ambling over with twenty or so first years in tow. “Everything alright Lou?” he asked, clearly feeling the tension he’d stepped into.   
Louis quickly snapped his eyes away from Harry’s, he’d forgotten about Zayn’s presence entirely and he strangely felt like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “Yeah, fine Li.” Louis hated to let Harry get the last word like this but he really was knackered, and the idea of getting in trouble on the first night back for continuing their public slandering match, in front of impressionable first years no less, was not appealing to him. It would probably cost him a night in McGonagall’s office explaining himself when he could be up in his bed sleeping. While he may not be a Ravenclaw there was still some active logical part to his brain. “Let’s go.”  
That night Louis lied in his unnaturally soft bed, his insides bubbling with the kind of excitement that could only be brewed within the walls of Hogwarts. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about the earlier encounter with Harry and Zayn, in particular the look in the former boys’ eyes. The intensity with which Harry had burned his retinas into his own had unsettled him. Not only that, but there was something else too... Although Louis hated to admit it, there was something strangely familiar about Harry’s eyes, as though they reminded him of something personal. He hated it, yet he couldn’t shake it from his thoughts. Exhaustion overtook Louis and suddenly he couldn’t stay awake any longer, feeling himself giving into the surrounding darkness. His breathing slowed and his eyes drooped and pushed his his thoughts about Harry’s eyes as far aside as he could, while he fell into a slumber.   
In another part of the castle a boy picks miserably at a loose thread on his curtains, unable to sleep. Why was he doing this to himself? The truth, despite all the years that’d passed, was that he hadn’t forgotten the kind boy who had offered to share his compartment on their first trip to Hogwarts, or the understanding look in his eyes when he’d silently soothed Harry’s fear of water. A look he was never likely to see directed towards him again. He had been sad when he’d walked past his new friend Louis the next day on his way to Charms and he hadn’t even looked at him, let alone smiled or said hello. This ignoring had just continued until eventually the house rivalries drew them so far apart that expecting a smile or a hello from Louis was like expecting a muggle to walk through the doors of Hogwarts and ask for directions; laughable. Harry doesn’t care much for the house rivalries, it all seems a little pointless to allow a feud which isn’t even theirs to allow them all to taint their judgement of one another. He doesn’t like how Zayn lets himself get so sucked into it, but at the end of the day Zayn’s his best friend and he wasn’t about to stand by earlier and let Louis Tomlinson speak down to him like that, despite any underlying affection he may have for the Gryffindor boy.   
Sometimes he just wants to taste the uncoloured past to keep himself sane. To remind himself that being in Slytherin doesn’t define him like Louis and many other’s clearly think it does; it doesn’t make him a bad person. While it may sound stupid that’s why he saved Louis from slipping on the train earlier. . . it just so happened that he couldn’t resist teasing the boy, whose skin was so warm and had smelled like cinnamon, once he got so close, and he’s pretty sure Louis didn’t even see him so where’s the harm?   
Harry’s proud to wear his emerald crest and he feels there’s plenty of merit to his house, one thing being that he’s surrounded by people who don’t lie to themselves or to each other about what they really think. He’s not entirely convinced that all the other houses could say the same. He tries to push his thoughts away and find some sleep, as he turns on his side, feeling rather deflated with the knowledge that to many people in this castle the only part of him that matters is the colour of his tie.

The first few weeks of term passed rather uneventfully for Louis, slipping easily back into his Hogwarts routine of classes, friends and Quidditch. Being made captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year is something he’s hugely proud of and he’s actually looking forward to taking it seriously (or at least as seriously as he’s capable of taking anything). He therefore wastes no time in arranging trials to set up the new team. They’d sadly lost a couple of players in the new school year including Jimmy Blazon; a relentless beater who had left school to a place on the Falmouth Falcon’s reserve team and a girl named Jenna Mallard; a chaser who’d left amicably with a near perfect scoring record and plenty of NEWT’s.   
Louis felt that despite the departure of some great players the team was still capable of being great again, and he had no intention of captaining the team to break Gryffindor’s victory streak of five years in a row.   
Balancing Quidditch with school was not proving easy though, NEWT’s having just begun for the sixth years homework was piling up faster than Louis liked. In fact, there was so much going on that he barely had time to hate Slytherin. Barely. Luckily, the first Quidditch match of the season loomed and was scheduled to be between his own house and their serpent embellished rivals. In the days leading up to it Louis found it difficult to walk down a corridor or enter the Great Hall without being greeted with either a lot of jeering or a lot of cheering. He hadn’t had another run in with Styles or Malik, seeing them only in the few classes he was forced to share with Slytherin. However a part of him looked forward to the next run in; it’s not like Louis went out of his way to make trouble with Slytherin, and he didn’t have any personal desire for malicious behaviour, but he refused to lie down and take it when anyone gave him shit. Which in his defence, they often did.

It was a damp Tuesday morning and Louis only had a few seconds left to get to Potions on time, he and Liam had overslept, having been left in their slumbers by the fellow Gryffindors of their dormitory (thanks lads!). They’d been up late together going over their Transfiguration notes, or more like Liam went through his while Louis sat in his favourite squishy armchair and turned quills into tiny swallows, much to Liam’s annoyance. “Mate do you have to be such a show off?” Louis ignored his question by turning a quill into a small peacock, a sufficient answer. Liam rolled his eyes and turned back to his work, which after a bit more showing off, Louis ended up helping him with.  
Liam didn’t take Potions for NEWT (a choice Louis had begun to envy) so Louis was on his own as he flew down the stairs to the dungeons, halting outside the door to find his breath. He had a stitch running across his stomach but there was no time to wait for it to subside, he composed himself and knocked on the door as sweat, or was it dread? Trickled down the back of his neck.   
The door flicked open and twenty or so faces turned in his direction, half of them holding back sniggers. James O’Loche, a sandy haired boy from his dormitory sat in the corner looking apologetic. At the front of the room Snape was at his desk wearing the only sort of of grin he ever allowed to venture onto his sallow face; a satisfied one relishing in the punishment he would be able to dole out to Louis for his lateness.   
“Mr Tomlinson, how nice of you to join us. I’d enquire as to why you’re late to my class but in all honesty I do not much care for whatever it is you find more important than punctuality. Twenty points from Gryffindor. Sit down”  
Louis opened his mouth to argue. Twenty points! That was ridiculous! “But Si-“  
“Thirty,” Snape drawled, daring Louis to say something else.   
Louis felt his hatred for the man exploding like James O’Hara’s cauldron had the last time Snape had them brewing antidotes for sleeping draughts. He had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from shouting obscenities in Snape’s ugly, hook-nosed face.   
“Very well. Now. Sit. Down.”  
Louis eyes scanned the room for empty stools and found only two. One to his left next to Ruby Adams of his own house and the other to the right next to none other than Harry Styles. It was a no brainer as Louis turned right to sit next to Ruby and get out his things.   
“Not so fast Tomlinson. I’ll not have you sitting with your friends after being late to my class. Next to Styles. Now.” Snape all about spat the last word.   
For fuck sake, Louis turned and saw Harry somehow managing to lean on his stool with an unimaginable air of cockiness. Louis picked up his bag and moved, having enough sense not to try and argue this time. He didn’t even spare Harry a glance as he sat as far away from his as the shared desk would allow and pulled out ingredients from his bag. One look at the board told him they were brewing love potions and so he opened his copy of ‘Advanced Level Potions’ to the desired page and set to work.   
He started by crushing moonstones with vigour, enjoying the sensation of turning the solid stone into fine powder; it was like a physical transfiguration spell. Hushed conversations started seeping through the classroom which Snape let be, strangely. Louis was doing an equally fine job of powdering his moonstones as he was ignoring Harry, when he heard a whispered “So, why were you late?”  
He nearly turned his head to see if it was definitely Harry speaking, because they didn’t engage in idle chit chat like this (it just didn’t happen) but he stopped himself and refocused on his moonstones, choosing to ignore the boy who clearly just wanted the backstory behind how Louis Tomlinson had managed to lose Gryffindor thirty points less than five minutes into first period.   
Harry made a scoffing sound somewhere on Louis right, which turned into a snort as he continued with his potion. Five minutes later, when both boys were adding rose thorns to their mixtures, Harry spoke again under his breath, “You know you don’t always have to be so obnoxious.”  
Louis was incredulous. Him be obnoxious? Harry must be taking the piss. He was the most obnoxious person Louis had ever met. He was a fucking Slytherin!  
Harry continued, “I mean, I know being a Gryffindor you hate me by default. But I’m just being conversational. You won’t spill any of the bad blood between us if you answer me, don’t worry.”  
Harry spoke the words ‘bad blood’ as though in metaphorical quotation marks, but Louis was adamant not to respond to any of the boy’s words, knowing full well the boy was trying to get a rise out of him. But despite this, he was so distracted by his own annoyance that his fingers slipped on his work and a rose thorn went slicing through his left index finger. The cut was deep and the pain sharp and Louis swore a rather loud “Merlin!”   
Snape’s face shot up and his beady eyes found Louis with blood flowing out of his finger. “Mr Tomlinson I will not tolerate disrespectful language in my classroom. Take your things and leave, do not return until you have mastered the art of de-thorning roses without maiming yourself, as much enjoyment as it gives me when you do.”  
Louis was utterly fucking pissed. Harry’s incessant whispering had made him cut himself and now he was being punished. He couldn’t decide who he hated more in that moment, Harry or Snape. He went to pick up his things but blood was still flowing freely from his cut and he didn’t want to get it all over his ingredients. He was aware of Harry fumbling in his robes, and in moments he was pulling out a handkerchief adorned with a bronze ‘S’. Without a word, he gently took Louis hand in his own and began to wrap the cloth around Louis finger. Louis just sat there in shock watching as his blood began to stain it red. Nobody was watching but Louis, Snape having returned to whatever it was he was reading (probably ‘Top Ten Ways to Torment Your Students’), and so his was the only mouth which opened in absolute horror as Harry finished his nursing by tying the corners of the handkerchief in a secure little knot with long slender fingers.   
Harry looked up and matched Louis eyesight with his own. It took Louis all of about three seconds to regain his sanity and stop staring back at Harry Styles, whose face was covered with a completely different expression to that day weeks ago, but with eyes still holding such familiarity. “Merlin eh? What happened to Jesus Christ?” Harry whispered with amused interest, still holding Louis hand ever so gently.   
Louis didn’t know what Harry was talking about, or what was even happening. He didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast, or why all the furious words he had for Harry were now non-existent in his mind. He just knew he needed to go. Now. He roughly pulled his small injured hand away from Harry’s large capable one and swept the contents of his desk into his bag. He stood up and made for the door without a glance back towards Snape or Harry or anyone else. 

As soon as he emerged from the dungeon, Louis made a beeline straight for the Common Room, praying it was unoccupied so he could carry out his mental breakdown in peace. He got to the portrait hole in record time and mechanically dropped the password – “Hubblebub” – from his lips.   
The Fat Lady looked with concern at Louis, noting his overall demeanour which read ‘freaking the fuck out’ and asked, “Something the matter sweetheart?”  
Louis was in no mood to talk to anyone, not even the eccentric guardswoman of Gryffindor Tower and so just repeated himself, “Hubblebub”.  
“Suit yourself,” she said huffily, and swung open.   
He would usually have felt bad for being rude to her, knowing from experience how easily offended she was, but he just didn’t have the headspace. Relieved to find the room empty and silent aside from the crackling of the fire, which the house-elves kept burning all day and night on cold days like today, Louis fell into his favourite arm chair, eager for its’ comforting squishiness. What the fuck had just happened? He ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down but instead was met with the sight of Harry’s blood stained handkerchief knotted expertly around his finger. So there was no escaping the fact that that had really just happened then. He hadn’t merely imagined it. Harry Styles of Slytherin, the same Harry Styles who wore his shirt half unbuttoned and his long hair swept back and who swaggered around the school grounds in an imitation of . . . what was the name of that muggle actor his mother always crooned over? James something . . . Dean? Whatever, either way, that same Harry Styles, had just bandaged up his finger in the middle of a fucking potions lesson. He felt his pulse involuntarily pick up at the fresh memory of Harry’s soft skin touching his own, how his dark brow had furrowed in concentration as he’d carefully wound the fabric round Louis wound. And what had he said afterwards? . . . Something about Jesus Christ? What was that even supposed to me– . . . Oh fuck. Louis suddenly remembered the suppressed incident of the helpful stranger on the train a few weeks before. The hairs on his arm lifted, no levitation charm necessary, at the memory of a hand placed firmly and purposefully on his waste while warm breath had exhaled the words “Jesus Christ” into his ear and onto his neck. There was definitely something stirringly familiar about the voice who had said those words, and Louis now knew why. It had been Harry.   
Louis needed a strong shot of Firewhisky. Or maybe three. How was he supposed to feel about this? About a Slytherin, and a Slytherin boy no less! Having gotten so intimately close to him. Well, he knew how he was supposed to feel, furious and disgusted and completely appalled. And he was, a bit. But not nearly enough. His stomach lurched at the now solid memories of Harry Styles whispering the words ‘Jesus Christ’ to him. Twice! And he wasn’t sure it was for the right reasons. Not at all.  
He didn’t have any more lessons until Herbology fourth period, which he shared with Hufflepuff, and he didn’t come out of the Common Room until then, unable to face people in his confused state. He also dreaded the thought of running into Harry in the hallway, having no idea as to how he’d react; he had planned the incident out in his head multiple times and it ended in a variety of ways ranging from him strangling the boy to running in the opposite direction the second he saw him. He got to Professor Sprout’s class promptly, not wishing for any repeats of this morning (none at all, definitely not) although he knew the professor was far too kind hearted to relieve Gryffindor of any points for a few seconds of lateness, unlike some others.  
Liam shared this class with Louis and he caught Louis eye as he entered the green house, his face flush with concern. Louis could tell he wanted to know why Louis had missed lunch but thankfully Louis was given some time to avoid the conversation when Professor Sprout started the lesson.  
The wispy haired professor coincidentally had them repotting foetus Spiky Bushes, which would’ve amused Louis on any other day. Thankfully this task required dragon hide gloves so Louis was able to cover his injured finger to avoid further possible questions from Liam, who kept making furtive glances Louis way. While the Spiky Bushes were only babies and weren’t quite old enough to be considered much of a threat, you still had to pay attention unless you wanted to end up with a yellow baby thorn in your eye. The lesson passed quickly, with only Niall Horan managing to get himself spiked by the plant, yelling out a great and very Irish “Whaddyadoingyabastard!” which might’ve gotten him into trouble if Professor Sprout had had the faintest idea what he had said. Before Louis knew it they were packing up and Liam was making his way over, his expression emulating questions.   
“Lou what’s going on? I heard what happened with Snape in Potions?”  
“Oh uh, what did you hear?” Louis questioned, unsure about what had really been witnessed by the rest of the class.   
“That the bastard made you sit next to Styles, and then sent you out because you cut your finger!”   
“Uh yeah, yeah he did,” Louis nodded to indicate that he was telling the truth, at least so far.   
“What a total dick! I can’t believe . . . well no actually I can believe it, but really that’s just bang out of order that is. What did you do?”  
Louis shrugged, “Just left, went to the Common Room. It wasn’t worth all our house points to argue with him, and I’m pretty sure he would’ve taken them all if I’d even tried.”  
“God I hate him. But wait, you weren’t at lunch? I waited for you, thought about checking for you upstairs but it seemed a long way away and well . . . there was shepherd’s pie,” Liam finished shrewdly with a half-smile and Louis just laughed, understanding his friend’s love of shepherd’s pie.   
“I just didn’t feel very hungry,” Louis lied casually.   
“Oh, fair enough. How’s your finger now?” Liam indicated to Louis hands which were still covered in dragon hide.  
“It’s fine. No big deal,” Louis went again for casual, hoping Liam wouldn’t say the following words.  
“Lemme see.” But of course that was Liam, ever the concerned father, and Louis couldn’t be annoyed at him for it.   
Seeing as Louis didn’t really see how he could avoid taking off his gloves, having been pointedly asked to, he did so, cursing himself internally for not having removed Harry’s handkerchief-bandage earlier. Luckily the bronze ‘S’ was concealed by both Louis blood and in the way Harry had tied it, so it could’ve been any old piece of cloth as far as Liam was concerned.   
“Ah you wrapped it up then, good thinking,” and Louis nodded, but having said the words Liam’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, aware of how unlike Louis it was to bandage up his own wound so expertly. Liam’s birthday and Christmas presents from his best friend were always delivered in either newspaper, held together haphazardly with bits of spello-tape, or without having been wrapped at all. Not to mention that Louis was left-handed, and the bandage round his finger was on his left hand also…  
He looked at Louis suspiciously, “Lou, who wrapped up your finger?”   
Louis squirmed, not wanting to tell Liam the embarrassing truth that he’d been patched up by the most notorious Slytherin at Hogwarts. “Oh, well actually, before I went to the common room, I stopped by the hospital wing, got Madam Pomfrey to do it.” His lies were blatant and Liam seemed to think so too.   
“Lou, why are you lying to me?”  
Louis’ eyes brimmed with panic, he’d been well and truly caught out. He hated lying, was no good at it at all, and the look of hurt on Liam’s face because he’d even tried to only made it worse. Louis let out an exasperated sigh and looked around. There were still students milling around packing up their things, some chatting idly, some hanging back to talk to Professor Sprout about the properties of wet fungus versus dry. “Not here.”

Up in a secluded corner of the Common Room hunched together so as not to be overheard Liam looked at Louis in disbelief. “Harry Styles?” he asked in hushed incredulity. “As in Harry Styles from Slytherin? As in the same Harry Styles who cursed Laurie Foote from Hufflepuff in fourth year so that her feet grew ten sizes too big and smelled like cheese? And then called it an achievement when she spent four weeks in the hospital wing crying? That same Harry Styles?”  
“Look Liam, as far as I’m aware there’s only one bloody Harry Styles in this whole castle! So yes, that same one.”  
“But . . . why?” Liam didn’t seem to understand, and more absurdly he thought Louis did.   
Liam noted Louis expression and continued, “No but what I mean is like, did you ever do anything nice for him? To maybe make him want to repay you.”  
Louis racked his brain, but came up with nothing. If anything it was the other way round.  
“Ask my remembrall mate, I haven’t the foggiest. Doubt it, at least not intentionally. The guys a Slytherin, why would I wanna help him out?”  
“No, I see your point. You wouldn’t. Also, he’s him. If he needed help he’d just call upon one of his many female fans wouldn’t he?” Liam’s question was rhetorical and said with a snort, but suddenly the thought of the girls who could be found within short vicinity of wherever Harry Styles was in the castle seemed to irk Louis. He found himself disliking them, when before he’d never really thought twice about them. Strange.   
“And that thing on the train, that’s weird that is. Like reaaaaalllllly weird.” Liam drew out the ‘really’ as if trying to emphasise just how weird it truly was. Louis silently agreed. “Why would he do that man? And the whispering in your ear, seems very odd to me. D’you think he’s messing with you?”  
Louis had considered this, but somehow he didn’t think so. The look of benevolence in the boys’ eyes earlier on had seemed scarily genuine. But, then again Louis suddenly thought . . . that was what Slytherin’s did wasn’t it? They were master manipulators, predators even. They didn’t care about anyone or anything, least of all Gryffindors. He realised he was being stupid. Allowing the tenderness of Harry’s caress to goad him into thinking the boy was anything more than an egotistical arsehole. He thought of poor Laurie Foote, who had never been quite the same.   
“I think,” Louis said slowly, “that I need to stay the hell away from Harry Styles.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter than the previous two but there's loads to come I promise!

And so, after using his want to siphon the blood off of Harry’s handkerchief, he put it in bedside drawer, he did just that. It was surprisingly easy to be honest. Louis was busy with Quidditch practice most evenings, they sat on opposite sides of the Great Hall during mealtimes, he rarely bumped into the boy in the corridors between classes and they only shared two classes together, Potions and Transfiguration. It wasn’t until the following Saturday, on the morning of the first Quidditch match of the season that Louis saw him again properly.  
He’d been training hard with his team and was confident that they had this in the bag. The team was pretty much the same as last year but with two replacement players including a timid fourth year girl named Beth who despite her temperament had a bloody wicked slug and was a fantastic beater. Jenna Mallard was succeeded by a boy from fifth year named Troye who despite his size was quick as a dragon on his Firebolt, which he had saved up his birthday money for years to afford and it’d given him the courage to try out for the team. Louis suspected that he would’ve been equally likely to make the team on a Cleansweep Seven and he had told the boy so while he’d blushed. Broom’s aside, Louis felt the team was strong and it was with a little more than his usual air of confidence that he strolled down to breakfast that morning.  
The team sat together in the Great Hall, both to present a united front to Slytherin and to go over their tactics one last time. With one last sip of pumpkin juice Louis stood up and told them all he’d meet them on the side-lines, despite there still being a good half an hour before the match was due to begin they all murmured ‘okay’s’ to their captain (reflecting their confidence in him) and he strolled out onto the grounds. Louis knew it seemed strange, being that he enjoyed chaos and mess and was very used to it with his family at home, but he liked the Quidditch pitch best just before a game. Its eerie stillness, like it knew it was about to be crowded with players and the stands full to bursting with spectators. He felt it was actually more exciting like this, full of promise and possibility, than during the actual game. He got to the thankfully still empty pitch and breathed in the sight around him, it made his stomach rush with the good kind of butterflies, the ones which spur you on to be great. Louis walked out to the middle of it and stood there taking it all in. When you looked at it from all the way down here it seemed entirely magical and he remembered the first time he’d been on the Quidditch pitch, seeing the goalposts and likening them to giant bubble blowers.

The weather was perfect for Quidditch and Louis felt the autumnal breeze on his exposed skin. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the sensation, thinking of nothing but stillness and calm while he breathed in the fresh November air. After a few moments he opened them, and was startled to see Harry standing on the pitch just a few feet away.  
After being hyper aware of his position in relation to the boy for over a week, he had let his guard slip, and now here he was; dressed casually in muggle clothes of very tight black jeans, which outlined far more than Louis was prepared for. He quickly looked up and away from Harry’s bulge focusing instead on his unruly curls tickling the shoulders of a soft looking green jumper.  
He felt himself straighten up, bracing himself for whatever violence was to come be it magical or physical. Harry must’ve been waiting for this moment to strike. To make his calculated move.  
Instead Harry just stood in his place with his long legs twisted round one another, eventually breaking his gaze on Louis to look around the pitch. He spoke first, “Somehow there’s nowhere quite as peaceful as this pitch before a game. Don’t you think?”  
How impossible that he was speaking pretty much the thoughts running through Louis own head, maybe he could read minds? Louis didn’t know what to say, having been prepared for a slandering match and not for a repeat of Harry’s conversational tone from that day in Potions. And he spoke calmly like they were friends when actually they hadn’t been friends in a long time. Louis wasn’t entirely sure that friendship’s even counted if they hadn’t actually lasted a full day.  
“What are you doing here?” Louis’ tone was abrupt and seemed to shake Harry out of his Quidditch pitch daydream.  
He looked at Louis calmly, “I could ask you the same question, given that I was in fact here first. I was over there,” he indicated to the stands where Louis would’ve easily missed him as he’s ambled over, “when I saw you. Wait don’t tell me you’ve stopped avoiding me?” His expression was one of mock disbelief.  
So he noticed, drat. “Wait, you’re not stalking me instead now are you Louis?”  
Harry actually winked at him. What the hell was he playing at!  
But Harry had been here first, that seemed strange, and before stopping to think Louis blurted out the least relevant thing he wanted to say, “But you hate flying.”  
Louis mentally cursed himself. Stupid! What was wrong with ‘No of course I’m not stalking you you arrogant fuck’? Ugh.  
But far from looking arrogant, Harry’s eyes lit up at Louis statement, a smile etching onto his very pink lips. He seemed to consider his answer for many breaths before responding with a simple, “Yes, I do.”  
“Why?” Louis felt himself asking.  
“You know why.” Harry sounded so sure, so completely sure  
Louis was momentarily confused. He knew Harry hated flying, but it seemed to just be something that he knew, without a justification. But the more he thought, the further forward his memory jogged, bringing with it a story involving Harry, a broom and a rather unfortunate willow tree.  
Louis remembered hearing that story, and from the way Harry was looking at him - like he was reading Louis mind - he remembered telling it. But Louis didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to remember the first friend he’d made at Hogwarts, because had he known the expiry date of their friendship he never would’ve bothered. The boy who stood in front of him now bared no resemblance to him anyway.  
It had been hard for Louis, those first few weeks at Hogwarts. He’d see Harry in the corridor and a part of him would yearn to talk to him. But he couldn’t. The house division, combined with Louis own stubbornness had made it so, and Harry had made loads of new friends. He’d walk past Louis without seeming to care, and Louis had no choice but to pretend he didn’t care either. Typically eleven year old boys are not always the most aware. At first Harry’s rejection had stung, and had triggered the underlying feelings of being rejected by his dad. Despite not wanting anything to do with the man, rejection was still rejection, and it still sucked most of the time. But, being eleven, he had gotten over Harry, and now here he was, trying to drag up the past.  
“No. I don’t.” Louis spoke the words with conviction, and it may have fooled Harry if it weren’t for Harry’s over developed sense of intuition.  
The glint in Harry’s eyes had gone, and instead he just looked disappointed. Louis almost told him the truth, holding it in his throat where it became a lump. Harry shortened the distance between them and looked down on the smaller boy as he spoke, this time without his previous jovial tone.  
“All you do is talk shit about my house. About how we’re all evil scumbags without an ounce of compassion. You call my friends names and by merlin you’ve called me a snake to my face more times than I can count. And I don’t give a shit about that, because I know none of it’s true. But what I do give a shit about is you standing here holier than thou, while you lie through your teeth. Because one thing I’m not is a liar, and you’ve just proven that you are. So maybe you should think about that the next time you’re slagging us all off.” Louis had seen Harry angry before, but never this close and it never felt this personal. Running a hand adorned with rings through his hair in frustration Harry made his final exasperated statement. “You’re just a person Louis, and so am I, and we’re all just here. You don’t need to make it so fucking difficult.” The last words were spoken in an almost pleading tone of voice. But before Louis could question him about that, or venture into the burning pot of other questions which bubbled inside him, Harry turned and walked away.  
Louis found his voice as Harry reached the edge of the pitch, anger boiling up inside him, “OI. HANG ON!” He jogged the distance Harry had walked in a few seconds and reached him, stopping him with a hand on the back his jumper, which was actually as soft as it looked. “Me make things difficult? Are you actually serious? Nothing was difficult until you made it fucking difficult.”  
Harry seemed uninterested in Louis words until “I know it was you who whispered in my ear on the train! And other things . . .” He didn’t want to say out loud about Harry’s bandaging his finger, still finding the whole ordeal too humiliating to face himself.  
Harry wasn’t looking at him and he couldn’t see his face, but his stance turned a little sheepish at that. “I didn’t think you saw me.”  
“I didn’t, but I heard you! And then I heard you in Potions the other day, and . . .” (Oops).  
Realisation dawned on Harry as he realised how Louis had made the link, who else at Hogwarts went around speaking aloud the name of the muggle’s lord and saviour.  
He wasn’t embarrassed though. “Well yeah, I did, I whispered in your ear. After I stopped you from falling and smacking your head. You’re welcome by the way. Bet you don’t remember the little incident I took that from either do you?” Harry’s voice was thick with sarcasm.  
Louis just looked at him blankly, he honestly had no idea what the other boy was talking about. And his inability to lie shone through to Harry again.  
“You actually don’t do you?” He ran his hand through his hair again. “Of course you don’t.” Harry sounded a little bit hurt, for a second making a stark resemblance to his eleven year old self.  
Harry questioned himself, which wasn’t a particularly common occurrence. Maybe the years he’d spent lightly pining for a friendship with Louis had actually been a complete and utter waste of time? Maybe to Louis that train journey had meant nothing at all.  
He looked up at Louis, and tried not to sound like a deflated school girl who had been told by her friend that the boy she fancied fancied someone else.  
“Look Louis, forget it. Forget it all; the train, Potions, the handkerchief, all of it. Alright? Just forget the last few weeks even happened.” Without waiting for an answer he turned and began to walk away again, stopping briefly to add “Good luck in the match, I’m obviously not rooting for you, but good luck.” And then he was gone. 


	4. Chapter 4

Gryffindor won the match, but with embarrassingly little help from Louis. It was one of those rare occasions where a team manages to win without actually catching the snitch, by having more points that the one-hundred and fifty which the snitch awards. Therefore Louis felt that their victory, which he was usually at the forefront of, did not belong to him at all. The Slytherin keeper had been on pretty poor form which had allowed the Gryffindor chasers –primarily Troye on his Firebolt - to score nearly two-hundred points before the Slytherin seeker, a girl with bleached blond hair who was only ever referred to as ‘J’, caught the snitch from practically right under Louis nose, more to finish the seemingly never ending game than anything else.   
She called Louis - “a fucking Moron” - as they shook hands at the end of the match (a formality between team captains), and he didn’t have it in him to retort, feeling that honestly she’d hit the wand right on the mark there.

That afternoon the common room was alight with celebrations. Someone had snuck food up from the kitchens, probably slugger Beth who had an affinity with the house-elves, and everyone was in high spirits at the Gryffindor victory.   
But Louis wasn’t in the mood. He sat in the corner for a while, listening to Liam tell him it didn’t matter how the score had come to be, and that Louis was being silly to let it get him so down.   
“Li, I’m just gonna go for a walk.”  
His friend’s eyebrows rose in concern and Louis quickly added “I’m fine I swear. I just want some fresh air, and a little break from all this,” he gestured to the group of people who had started a limbo competition in the middle of the room.  
“But you love to limbo?” Liam frowned.   
Louis did love to limbo. But not right now. “I won’t be long. See ya in a bit.” He patted Liam on the shoulder and walked out of the room, trying to avoid any congratulations thrown his way.

When Louis was finally alone in the corridor he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt bad for ditching Liam, and Louis knew he was kind of right about the match, but as he was unaware of the conversation which taken place before the match, Liam didn’t know the rest of the reason Louis felt so down.  
Having no real destination in mind, Louis started wandering aimlessly through the castle, his thoughts clouding his sense of direction as he drew them back to his and Harry’s earlier chat, trying to decipher the meaning behind the other boy’s words. Harry had said that Louis was ‘just a person’. What was that supposed to mean? If that was his idea of a revelation then it wasn’t doing much for Louis. But he had also said that he himself was also ‘just a person’ . . . that ‘we all’ were. Whose ‘we’ supposed to be? And then he’d proceeded to say Louis made everything difficult. Louis was more than glad he’d managed to throw that one back in Harry’s face, because he had no idea how difficult he had made Louis life of late. Just because it was easy to avoid Harry it hadn’t made him any less paranoid; walking into buildings and scanning them to make sure Harry wasn’t around before entering. All because of something Harry had admitted to without any shame whatsoever – ‘Well yeah, I did, I whispered in your ear.’ He had admitted to it alright. But he hadn’t explained why!? Louis was really starting to doubt his earlier belief that it was, on Harry’s part, an action fuelled by malicious intent. Harry had seemed sad. And all those things he’d said about Louis talking shit about him, well they made Louis confused. Because Louis had been lying, at least at first. And it was only now, after racking his brain during the Quidditch match (no surprise he didn’t catch the bloody snitch!) that he remembered enough of the first train journey to piece Harry’s anger together. Louis had forgotten how, fresh from his muggle upbringing, he’d used muggle swear words that day. But now he remembered, quite sharply in fact, like the pain which had pulsed through his skull when he’d fallen off is seat. He understood why Harry would’ve chosen those words to get Louis attention, and to remind him of that day. But it was Louis own slow memory which had halted the process. He still didn’t know why any of this mattered though, and now particularly? It didn’t change anything, it didn’t stop Harry being his Slytherin self, or Louis his Gryffindor self, and it didn’t change anything between them. Did it? His thoughts about Harry Styles were in that moment the epitome of ambivalence. 

Rounding a corner, Louis was so caught up in his thoughts of Harry that he bumped straight into someone.   
“Bloody ‘ell Lad, what’re ye doin’?”  
It was Niall Horan.   
“Oh shit, sorry Niall. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”  
“Oh Lou it’s ye!” The Irish boy gave Louis his hundred watt smile. “Hey congrats on the match, I was watchin’. Shame about the snitch but what can ye do eh? Least ye still won.”   
Niall’s honest words were comforting and made Louis feel somewhat better.   
“Thanks man.”  
“S’alright. So why aren’t ye celebratin’ with yer team?”  
Louis gave an inconsequential shrug, “Just got some stuff on my mind I guess.”  
“Ahhh. Fair enough lad fair enough. Hey if ye wan’ I got some Firewhisky up in me room, I could gah’n grab it and could a’ve ar’elves a little party? If ye wan’ a break from these thoughts of yer’s that is?”  
Louis thought that sounded like exactly what he needed and he remembered why and Niall had become such good friends; despite the house divides, they were both partial to a bit of rule breaking.   
“Sounds good to me Nialler.”

Louis waited down by the steps at the Entrance Hall while Niall went to fetch the Firewhisky. He re-emerged five minutes later from the direction of the kitchens, his jeans pocket looking suspiciously more bulky than before (thank god he wasn’t wearing Harry’s jeans Louis thought, before cursing himself for thinking about Harry again.) Hogwarts of course had a zero tolerance policy on drinking, not to mention that both boys were still underage, and they would get into unthinkable amounts of trouble if they were caught. So they slipped carefully out of the doors and went to find a secluded spot somewhere on the grounds.   
It was only just after six, but the sky was already beginning to darken and within half an hour there would be little light left at all. The boys ambled down the hill, shushing each other and stumbling, acting increasingly silly despite being yet to intoxicate themselves. The euphoria of their imminent rule breaking already taking effect. They reached a small area a few yards from the lake where any view of them from the castle would be entirely blocked thanks to an enormous Oak tree nearby.   
“What’d ye think? Here alright?” Niall asked him.   
“Bloody marvellous Nialler” Louis flopped down onto the dry ground with a bump and leaned back against the tree trunk. Niall joined him.  
Niall then pulled out the Fireswhisky from his light blue jeans and gave Louis a cheeky smirk. “Aye swiped it from me pape last summer, but never got round ta’ drinkin’ it. Drank plenty o’ beer though,” he said with a nostalgic chuckle. Niall came from a small wizarding village in Ireland called Mullingar. It was filled with many old traditional muggle pubs which sold traditional beers and ales as well as the typical magical ones, and the wizarding community loved the novelty of it.   
He unscrewed the top and took a swig. “Ahhh, that’s a good’un that is,” he said as he passed it to Louis.   
Louis had had alcohol plenty of times at home. This summer he and Stan realised they could get served at the off license and they’d spent many an afternoon sprawled out in Stan’s living room downing cans of muggle beer. He hadn’t ever tried wizard’s alcohol though, and its magical properties took an all over different effect to the hops and barley.  
He felt it scorch as it trickled south in his throat, its fiery taste hitting every surface on its way down; Louis felt like it was burning holes in his gullet and wished he’d taken a smaller mouthful. He now possessed a full understanding of why they’d called the stuff Fire-whisky. But then the scorching sensation subsided, and the clear liquid began to make his whole body tingle with pleasure.   
Niall watched, looking half amused at Louis reaction to the stuff, and half dazed, enjoying the tingly feeling he was also getting. “Told ya it was good stuff.”  
“Damn. Nialler. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve never been happier to have befriended an Irishman.”  
Niall just cracked up and used one hand to punch Louis’ shoulder in a gesture of fondness, the other having retaken ownership of the bottle. He took a second swig and passed it back to Louis.   
The two boys continued like this for some time, passing the bottle back and forth and chatting about anything and everything (well almost), the conversations getting progressively more strange as the hours passed.   
It was pitch black by now, and the boys were still sat under the Oak tree. They didn’t know what time it was and were far too drunk to care.   
“NIALLER LOOK!” Louis jumped up and pointed towards the lake, where the giant squid was disturbing the surface, making the water bubble about.   
“Ssshhhhhhhhhhh,” Niall gave up trying to shush Louis as he collapsed in fits of giggles. “Louis. We can’t go swimming. I left my swimming trunks in my room.”  
“Soooo. We don’t need them! Look Niall the squid wants to play. I want to play.” Louis began to pull his shoes off.   
Niall tackled him to the ground. “No Lou. He’ll eat you.” The Irish boy giggled again and mimicked eating Louis, making a slurred munching sound.   
“Aggahh,” Louis shrieked from beneath Niall. It was so dark he couldn’t see Niall who was mere inches from his face, so he pulled out his wand and muttered ‘lumos’ to create some light.   
Both boys were in such a state of laughter then that they didn’t notice a boy was slowly approaching them, having been being alerted to sounds behind the trees on his way back to the castle after a visit to Hagrid’s hut. Harry and Hagrid were good friends, and having had a lot on his mind he’d gone to see him for a chat.  
He stood concealed in some nearby bushes, his hand on his wand, ready to react to whatever it was he could hear just beyond. But then, he was surprised by the sight that met his eyes: Niall Horan from Hufflepuff was lying on the grassy ground laughing his bright blonde head off. It brought further shock to Harry to see who was lighting up the scene, Louis Tomlinson holding his want aloft whilst lying beneath Niall.   
Both boys seemed in a state of laughter far too extreme to have been caused by mere amusement, which was confirmed when Harry’s eyes caught sight of an empty bottle of Firewhisky lain a few metres from where they were embracing.   
Harry was completely aghast. Louis and Niall!? He knew they were friends, sure, but had never expected this. Barely an hour ago had Harry told Hagrid he was pretty sure the ‘person’ he had mixed feelings for did not share any of the same ones with regard to him, or any at all in fact. But he hadn’t for one second assumed it was because Louis was enjoying roll around’s after hours with boys from other houses. It hadn’t even occurred to him. But now, in front of his eyes, it most definitely was. And it sucked. He turned away from the sight, trying to push his heart back up from where it was starting to sink into the quicksand that was now his stomach, being careful not to make sounds to alert them to his presence when –   
Harry went falling face first as he tripped over a loose tree root in the darkness. It made a great cracking sound which, aside from Louis and Niall’s laughter, cut through the otherwise quite peaceful evening.


	5. Chapter 5

“Fuck.” He cursed.  
The two boy’s laughter cut immediately. A loud whisper could be heard through the darkness, “Lou did ye hear that?”  
Louis scrambled up, grabbing his wand from his pocket and edging towards the sound of the profanity. “Halt! Who goes there?”  
Despite his current circumstance Harry couldn’t help the laughter which escaped his lips at the absurdity of Louis drunken attempt to sound threatening. It was far from it, verging more on cute in Harry’s opinion.  
Harry sighed, and rather than stay silent and end up getting caught, he figured it’d be less embarrassing to come forward. “Just me,” he called out.  
“Who’s ‘me’? Show yourself intruder!”  
Harry actually guffawed at that. Louis was a hilarious drunk. “It’s me, it’s Harry.”  
“Harr—HARRY!”  
“Yes. Harry.”  
“HARRY!?” Louis shouted.  
“Sshh Louis, yes it’s me. Come and help me would you?” Harry was still lying on the ground, his foot tangled up in the snapped root.  
Louis wasn’t sure about this, and didn’t let go of his lit wand as he edged forwards towards Harry’s voice. He was relieved to find it was just Harry, his long body lying across the floor.”  
“Why are you down there?” Louis asked, but far from sounding abrupt and unkind like he usually did when he spoke to the boy he sounded merely inquisitive, the alcohol running through his veins seemingly shielding his prejudice.  
“Because I love the smell of earth in the evening.”  
This confused Louis, “Really?”  
“No. Because I tripped and fell Lou, can you untangle my foot from that root please?”  
“Sure.” Louis knelt down and began to pull the roots away from Harry’s ankles, when Niall approached.  
“Lou, what’s goi – ohh ye’lright Harry!” Niall spoke with his usual friendly countenance.  
“Y’alright Niall.” Harry tried not to feel angry at the boy. It wasn’t his fault Harry had these immovable feelings towards Louis. He couldn’t blame the boy for whatever it was he’d been up to with Louis. Harry was sure that given half a chance he’d have done just the same.  
“Niall Harry is stuck, we need to get him out. And then we can all go swimming.” Louis said with a smile.  
Harry figured they’d been planning to go skinny dipping before he’d interrupted. Bit of a mental idea in his opinion, it was quite cold and dark, and the squid was in there . . .  
“Not sure that’d be the best idea.” Harry said, finally breaking free from the roots and standing up with a wobble.  
“We’re not goin’ swimmin’. Tommo’s mental is all.” Niall said affectionately. Harry looked away in irritation.  
“Right, well I’ll just leave you guys to it then.”  
“Harry nooo, you can’t go.” Louis whined.  
Harry was dusting the ground off of his jeans when Louis murmured to nobody in particular, “I have so many questions.”  
That caught his attention. “Questions?”  
Louis looked from Harry to Niall, who were both looking at him inquisitively. “What?” He asked defensively.  
“Whadd’ya mean ye have questions Lou?” Niall seemed to find this all very amusing, while Harry was a little more alert and a little more interested to know exactly what Louis questions were.  
“I have questions.” He repeated, and then bought his voice into a poor attempt at whispering, meant for Niall’s ears only, “for Harry.”  
Harry was all ears now. Louis had his full attention, and you would’ve had to physically drag him from the grounds in order to separate him from this new, intoxicated, loose lipped Louis.  
Niall looked at Harry for some kind of explanation.  
But Harry just shrugged, not sure that he even had one to give.  
“Questionssssss.” Louis whispered to himself in the dark, staring at the light still illuminating from his wand.  
“We’re gonna have one hell’uva job getting him up to the castle without Filch hearing.”  
Harry agreed, but wasn’t deterred. “Come on,” he said, “before they lock the doors, or we’ll all be in real trouble then.”  
So they all made their way up to the castle, Louis and Niall stumbling occasionally. The former boy much more so, and eventually Harry just put his arm around his waist to help him remain two footed. And to Harry’s surprise, far from squirm away from his touch, Louis leant on the boy, but made sure to tell him “I got this,” before proceeding to nearly face plant on the stone steps, stopped only by Harry’s secure grip. Sure you do, thought Harry, not really trying to suppress his smile.  
Thankfully the doors were still unlocked and they all crept inside. Harry kept shushing the other two, aware that however sober he was, if he was caught coming into the castle with two fellow students very much under the influence of an entire bottle of Firewhisky he was sure to be punished right alongside them. The castle was lit only by infrequently lit torches in wall brackets, telling them that it must be pretty late. The trio reached an intersection in the corridor, with one pathway leading down towards the Hufflepuff common room while the other lead towards the stairs which Louis could then take up to Gryffindor tower.  
“This is me then lads. It was great seeing you Lou, I’ll try’en bump into ye more often, even if ye’ar a lightweight,” the boy joked playfully. Louis laughed at his comment. Harry didn’t.  
“For sure mate for sure. We’ll do it again soon yeah?” Louis slurred.  
Harry tried to block it out as Louis planned his next rendezvous with Niall.  
“Yer o’course. Hope I helped get things of yer mind.” And Harry only just about kept back the rock cake Hagrid had fed him, which he’d been too polite to refuse. Niall gave Louis a hug, patting him on the back before turning to Harry. “Nice to see you too man,” he went in for a hug which Harry accepted without any enthusiasm. Merlin, don’t be so bitter, Harry thought to himself.  
Niall stumbled off towards the his warm bed, where little did Harry know he would not be thinking of Louis but rather about what he was going to have for breakfast the next morning. And Louis and Harry were left in the hallway, alone.  
Harry didn’t really know where to go from here. Did he walk Louis back to Gryffindor tower? Looking at the boy, who could still barely stand up straight, he figured it would be the most chivalrous thing to do. Not that Louis needed his chivalry. He had Niall.  
Either way, in lieu of not being a pathetic jealous bitter loser, he offered Louis his arm. The wobbly boy took it with a gratified smile, the kind of smile that Louis wouldn’t be giving to any Slytherin if he were of sound mind.  
Harry didn’t bother to shoot for casual, given that Louis probably wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow, “What questions d’you have for me then?”  
Louis looked shocked, like Harry had caught him out. “How do you know about my questions?”  
Harry laughed. Nope, he definitely wasn’t going to remember a thing. “Well earlier, down by the lake? D’you remember that bit?”  
Louis stumbled against him, “Of course I remember the lake Harryyyy. I was there you know.”  
Harry continued, “Right of course. How silly of me. So if you remember that then you remember how you mentioned that you had some questions for me? I was just wondering what they might be, and if maybe I could help you out with any of them.”  
“Haaaryyrry. I’m just a person,” he said proudly, “and so are you. We all are,” Louis gestured with his hands to the empty corridor surrounding them.  
“Why thank you dear, it’s nice to be recognised,” spoke a lady dressed in magenta robes who was playing cards in a painting on the wall.  
Louis looked at her picture for a few seconds looking confused before he whispered to Harry, “Did you mean her?”  
Harry laughed at Louis who was being too cute for his own good. He bent down slightly to whisper in Louis ear, “maybe not, but don’t tell her.”  
Louis nodded in affirmation. And they carried on along the corridor, “Harry?” Louis asked.  
“Yeah?”  
“What did you mean by that? About me, being a person, and making things difficult?” Louis had his forehead and the bridge of his nose all crinkled in confusion, like he trying to figure it out himself.  
Harry was a little taken aback by that being one of Louis questions. He didn’t think Louis would even have thought twice about the things he’d said to him earlier and he weighed his response, aware that Louis was still very drunk and a complicated explanation wouldn’t really do. “I just . . . just that you’re only a person, and so am I. And so is everyone else in this castle. And no matter which house we’re in, we’re all just people. We’re equal. That’s what I meant.”  
Louis soaked in his words, nodding his head and then shaking it roughly. “But wait, but . . . but then why have the houses at all? If we’re all equal?”  
Harry thought drunk Louis made a lot more sense than sober Louis. “I guess because they’re meant to separate us in other ways, like in our strengths and weaknesses. But they don’t mean that any individual is better than another.”  
“Oh . . .” Louis scratched his chin in a rather adorable way. “I see.” Louis found himself thinking Harry’s words made a lot of sense. “But why am I difficult?”  
Harry sighed. He supposed if he was going to have this conversation with Louis, why not have it with this version of the boy, who was far more reasonable than the usual one and looking up at him in open-minded interest. “Because you look at me like I just killed your entire family and then ate your dog. And it doesn’t matter how nice I am to you; helping you on the train, and then bandaging up your finger, none of it makes a damn bit of difference. You still hate me, because I’m in Slytherin. You’re difficult because you can’t seem to realise that I just want us to get along (and then some), and if you really think about it I bet you can’t recall a single thing I’ve ever done to you to make that so wrong.”  
Louis looked at Harry with a strained expression, and thought for several moments before responding. “Firstly,” he waved his index finger in Harry’s face, “I haven’t got a dog.” Harry almost laughed, partly pleased to see that Louis was still as argumentative as ever no matter how out of it he was. “Secondly,” one finger became three, then after a bit of fumbling, two, “secondly, what about all the other things you’ve done to other people. Like Laurie Foote?”  
Harry’s expression went blank, and then he looked suddenly serious. “Wait, are you talking about the thing in fourth year?”  
“Yes, when you made her feet huge. That wasn’t nice.”  
Harry was despaired. He stopped by a wall to run his hand through his hair, a gesture which Louis was beginning to see was a side effect of stress. “Louis I want you listen to me and believe me when I tell you this. That. Was. Not. Me. Okay? I can’t say any more than that because . . . well I just can’t. But I didn’t do that to Laurie. I swear.”  
He was making pleading eyes at Louis, and for some reason, be it the earnest tone of Harry’s voice, or maybe the compliancy which being drunk seemed to give Louis, he did believe him.  
“Okay, I believe you.”  
Harry grinned from ear to ear. “You do?”  
“Why not!” Louis slung the words out as he stumbled sideways again. In the second that it took for Harry to throw his arm out and stop the boy falling onto the floor, both boys were overcome with de ja vu.  
Harry was holding on tightly, his arm placed firmly behind Louis back and his palm flat against Louis waist, long fingers splayed out maximising the amount of the drunk boy he could hold. Just as he had done nearly two months ago. Only this time he wasn’t in such a hurry to let go. Quite the contrary, he pulled Louis back up, but kept his hand very much against the boy’s side, so that once they were both standing normally they were incredibly close. Harry looked down at Louis, who was staring up at with a dazed, and more importantly unprejudiced look on his lovely face. He wished it could always be like this.  
“Lou?”  
“Yeah?” Louis breathed very slowly. He was incredibly flustered by being this close to Harry, whose green eyes were all too penetrative; the sensation of his hand against his waist, holding him almost against his own body, was making Louis light headed. Somewhere deep inside him there was a voice (maybe his own) telling him it was wrong, all wrong. But the Firewhisky seemed to have done a wonderful job at silencing it, and in this moment Louis could only feel thankful about that.  
Harry bought his free hand up to Louis face and took a lock of Louis fine hair between his long fingers, tugging at it lightly. “Would you let me hold you like this if you were sober?”  
Louis thought for a moment, “You already did.”  
“No, I mean I know. But you didn’t know about that.” He curled the piece of Louis hair round his finger as far as it would go (which wasn’t nearly as far as his own, but much more satisfying). “What I mean is. If you knew it was me, and I asked, and you were sober. Would you let me hold you?” He put great emphasis on the word ‘hold’ by dropping Louis hair and giving Louis waist his full attention. “Like this?” Squeezing one side and making Louis squirm slightly beneath his touch.  
Louis couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think. All he could do was fall to pieces beneath Harry’s gaze, revelling in the pressure of warm palms and fingertips on his waist. Given that he was incredibly reactive to any form of tickling Harry’s hands were in a very dangerous place; he was in every literal and figurative sense of the phrase putty in Harry’s hands.  
“I . . . – I don’t know.” Louis finally answered truthfully.  
The smile which had been playing comfortably on Harry’s lips faltered, and Louis noticed. But he didn’t want Harry to stop smiling, Harry looked so nice when he smiled. And so, in his still rather silly state Louis moved his dainty hands up to Harry’s face, and ran his fingertips across the boys’ beautifully sculpted jawline, dragging them back and forth for a few moments before finishing his tour over the boys’ soft pink lips. They parted under Louis touch. “Smile. You’re so pretty when you smile.”  
Harry’s looked at Louis with a mixture of awe and incredulity. Who was this person? Who reminded him so much of a boy he’d met six years ago that it was making his heart hurt. He could feel his cheeks growing slightly warmer at the gesture of intimacy combined with Louis compliment. He wanted to move his hands back up to Louis face and cup his cheeks lightly, to tilt his lovely face up and press his own lips against Louis with such incredible softness that Louis would think he had dreamed it come tomorrow, while struggling to determine fact from drunken fallacy.  
He wanted to, and was just about to, when the sound of shuffling suddenly cut through the otherwise silent castle. Both boy’s whipped their heads round, Louis hands dropping from Harry’s face onto his chest. Squinting into the darkness Harry could make out a pair of yellow cats’ eye staring at them with contempt.  
“Fuck, Mrs Norris.” Harry whispered.  
“Oh shit, Filch must be nearby.” Louis attempted to whisper.  
“C’mon, before he comes!” Harry grabbed Louis hand and the two of them ran down the rest of the corridor as quietly as they could, finally reaching the portrait hole to Gryffindor tower, and the end of the road for Louis.  
“Right, they’re probably just down there so you should get in quickly,” Harry mumbled, looking back warily even though they had a good few minutes before Filch had a hope of catching up to them at his age.  
“Uh yeah, of course.” Louis stood awkwardly, before seeming to realise that his hand was still loosely clasped in Harry’s. He looked down at their hands wrapped around the others.  
Harry knew Louis was staring at their hands, and rather than remove his own from the scene of the crime, he boldly intertwined their fingers.  
“Look Louis,” Harry’s voice sounded gruff and was ringing with nerves and urgency, “I know this can’t happen, for so many reasons it seems worthless to mention them all. But for just a second, can you do me a favour?”  
Louis was as perplexed as ever, but not willing to deny Harry anything at this point in the evening, after all his Samaritan-like behaviour, and the way he was looking at Louis, he had long since forgotten about things like house rivalry, he nodded.  
“Close your eyes.”  
Louis did as he was told, without a single argumentative comment.  
He stood there with his eyes firmly shut, suddenly feeling the effects of the evening, before being startled by a soft, warm and very pleasant pressure against his lips. He didn’t question it, just leant into the pressure for a second, because before he knew it the pressure had gone. His brain wasn’t working at its normal pace and by the time he’d opened his eyes, he was alone in the corridor.


End file.
